"Hey, Mike… I don’t know if that’s a good idea," one of his friends cuts in, looking at me with a furrowed brow.
"Shut up, Stew. She can come. It’ll be fun," Mike states and throws a glance at his friend before smiling back at me. "So? You coming?"
I consider it for a moment and glance at the ticket booth once again. Then I look back at Mike. "Are you serial killers?"
All their eyes widen, before Stew curses quietly and the others burst out in laughter. Mike steps beside me and throws his arm around my shoulders. "No, sweetheart. We’re not serial killers. Don’t worry."
His touch isn’t uncomfortable, but where Cole’s hands made me feel hot and tingly as he helped me with the seat belt, Mike’s touch causes cold goosebumps to erupt on my skin. My stomach feels queasy, too, but I blame it on the hunger. After all, I skipped dinner.
When Mike starts to move, I let him lead me and go with him.
"What’s your name, sweetheart?" His hot breath brushes my cheek as he walks right next to me. I grimace because it smells kind of pungent and burns my nose.
"Sophie," I answer while we walk along the side of the road.
"And where are you from?"
Two of his friends walk in front of us, while Stew walks beside me on the other side but keeps some distance.
"Just nearby," I say vaguely.
Two blocks away, I can see a police car driving slowly down the road. Behind it is a dark pickup that immediately reminds me of Cole.
"This way," Mike says, guiding me down a narrow side street before I can worry further about Cole or see if it’s even the same vehicle.
A few minutes later, we arrive at a one-story building with a parking lot in front of it. A big glowing sign with the word 'Eleven' in front of what looks like a seven hangs above the entrance, and I wonder what that means.
"That’sa diner?" I ask, bewildered, when we enter the building, and look around. Rows upon rows of shelves are filled to the brim with boxes, jars, bottles, and cans in every shape, color, and size imaginable. Everywhere, people walk through the aisles, and at a strange table, a woman sits in front of a device that beeps constantly.
"This is a supermarket, isn’t it?" I say, while I let my gaze drift through the store.
Mike laughs beside me and pulls me through the labyrinth of aisles after his friends walk off in the opposite direction. "Yes. We’re just going to grab some more lemonade. You want something?"
"I don’t know," I say uncertainly. "I think I’d better save the money for the bus ticket."
Mike shrugs and makes his way back to the exit. I follow him while I’m completely overwhelmed by all the things surrounding us.
Shortly after we left the supermarket, his friends come out, too. Stew hands Mike a new bottle of lemonade, and he takes a long sip before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Let’s go then," he says, beaming with joy, and I can’t help but smile too as we start moving.
FIVE
COLE
I shouldn’t fucking care. Still, I’m wondering why Sophie wanted to leave her mother so badly that she got into a stranger’s truck. Had she been beaten or otherwise abused? I couldn’t see any marks, but that doesn’t mean anything. Her sleeves and pant legs were long, so I could barely see any skin, and I know that such marks are often hidden in places that are not visible at first sight.
And why did it seem as if she was seeing the town for the first time? It’s not possible she hasn’t been outside before. I mean… How old is she? Sixteen? Seventeen? Surely, no one would isolate a child from the outside world for that long. Would they?
My thoughts are spinning like crazy until a siren starts blaring behind me.
Well, fuck. A police car is following me with its blue lights flashing, and I think I already know what this might be about.
Cursing, I put on the blinker and pull over to kill the engine of my pickup and roll down the window. Then I put my hands on the steering wheel and wait.
A few seconds later, a stubby older cop appears and shines his flashlight right in my face.
I squint against the bright light. "Good evening, Officer. Did I do anything wrong?"
